


Camelot City Football Club

by EVBriar



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dubious Consent, Erotica, Football | Soccer, Gay Sex, Grinding, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Romance, Smut, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-07
Updated: 2016-12-07
Packaged: 2018-09-07 01:21:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8777485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EVBriar/pseuds/EVBriar
Summary: [Arthur/Merlin M/M Romance]Kinkmeme Fill of:Arthur is a famous and successful footballer, Merlin is the team's vibrantly enthusiastic ball boy.Arthur takes it upon himself to see the boy thoroughly rewarded after a game.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Arthur Pendragon is a famous 25-year-old footballer who plays for the English club 'Camelot City' and the English national team. He's a forward and serves as captain for his club and country.  
> Merlin is a teenaged ball boy who no one pays much mind to but who is excited and starstruck all the same.  
> On the high of a win, Arthur corners Merlin in the empty locker room when he finds him poking around the captain's locker.
> 
> Extra warning for underage/dub-con erotica.

There was a trembling inside Arthur. Not anxiety - no, Pendragon never got anxious - yet his chest was abuzz as he pulled his shirt over his head. "Do you hear that?" Leon whispered to him among the laughter of the team. Arthur looked his way - their starting Keeper, blond and handsome yet not as much of a favourite as the captain. "They're already shouting your name." Leon smile was bright but Arthur huffed. He could hear them roaring, but nothing particular. "You could come out wearing Mercia's jersey and cursing Camelot and all its fans and they'd love you all the more."

Arthur believed that, but offered no response. Silently he tied his cleats, then turned to fix his hair in the locker mirror. It didn't matter - soon it'd be a mess from frustrated hands and soaked with sweat, yet all the players gelled and preened and perfected all the same. Pendragon, in that regard, was no different. Minutes passed, full of team bullshitting and Arthur's deep breaths - and soon they were lining up, Arthur at the front followed by Percival the Striker; Vidor and Caridoc the center defenders; Brennis and Cador the attacking midfielders; on and on the line went, all of them waiting, adrenaline slowly flowing through shared veins.

This was a special game: Mercia was a particular rival. Back and forth they traded the championship, and few other teams stood a chance to win it. The only time either group came together was when they played on the national level. On that field, there was companionship. On this one, there was none to be found. They weren't playing for England - they were playing for their teams, and Arthur was always desperate to lead his own to victory.

And so the game began with a roar, following announcements and chants. Back and forth it went: shots taken and missed; players fouled and tripped; fans roared and booed. By the time forty-five minutes had passed (and an extra two for when Pellinor was rolling around with a cramp), Arthur was dripping with sweat. His eyes burned from it, and he was momentarily blinded when they were shielded from the bright sun in their locker rooms. Neither team had scored.

Pendragon took the water he was offered and drank it sparingly, not bothering to get up and spit it out like he should've. Eyes were on his own glistening hands until they glanced up, flicking over the ball boys as they got their own water from the hall. He glanced over them, unseeing, as he always did - and then he saw that one. That one, who was thin and pale with the darkest hair and the brightest smile. There was something about it that made Arthur stare (perhaps how goofy it was, or how much it made him want to ask, 'what are you so happy about, anyway?') and that was when he realized the kid was staring back. Staring and smiling at him. A Pendragon brow raised. He was used to being gawked at - but not like this, with those eyes not having the shame enough to look away when gazes were met. The boy stared with his wide eyes and high cheekbones and excited smile like he was glad to be seen by the very Pendragon. For the first time that day, Arthur had smiled, too. They stared at each other until Leon struck him playfully on the shoulder, taking focus, and when he looked back, the ball boys were gone - back to the field.

He carried that boy with him, though, thinking of that smile through the end of the break and into the second half. Their gazes met again and they resumed the stare - but only for a moment, as Arthur was still wearing his captain's band. He found himself kicking the ball off the field whenever it was tactical to do so - watching that ball boy rush toward it so he could have the honor of throwing it back. He had the tendency to catch it with his hands, even at high - he was tall for his age, Arthur was sure, because even their seventeen-year-old players weren't that height just a few years ago. Once he even headed it back and was scolded by a sideline official, but Pendragon waved them off with a princely hand. It came to be that they were almost playing by themselves - though soon Arthur had scored twice on the other goal, helped defend one from Mercia, and spent the last fifteen minutes of the half leisurely engaging the ball boy with out-of-bounds slides.

The game ended with a roar and a Camelot win. Players and ball boys alike flooded the field - they were sure to be crowned champions if they played like this once more. Arthur was abuzz with excitement and shared that boy's smile as he came rushing toward him. Without missing a beat Pendragon picked him up and hugged him close, his fellow players patting him on the shoulder and ruffling the boy's dark hair. In the midst of it all they were separated as soon as Arthur put him down, though that bright smile never left that face. Surely, Arthur thought, those cheeks must be numb.

The club took their celebration to the locker rooms. Damp uniforms were shed, showers were taken, and clothes were changed. The stadium was emptied, slowly but steadily. Pendragon had been caught in a few short interviews and then stopped to autograph a little girl's sign ('Beware the Pendragon's Fire!' it read) and accept some fan pictures. He tried to seek out that smiling ball boy but found the thinning line of them already dissipating. It wasn't until he turned to retreat to the locker room (empty, by now) that he saw a mess of black hair and a pale hand dragging along the wall. He slowed but followed, a faint grin on his face as the ball boy turned into the team's locker room.

What could he be doing there? It was no place for a well-behaved ball boy. A naughty one, though…?

Blond hair and white-and-red uniform were slowly drying with sweat worn like a musk, but he had no thoughts of a shower. He wanted to corner that boy for reasons he dared not think too much on. The way he'd been smiled at was different, somehow - Pendragon ached to see it again. He ached to tell that boy what a good job he'd done.

Arthur turned into the doorway and leaned against the frame, watching silently. The boy was there, in front of Pendragon's own locker, rifling long fingers through clothes. He pulled a shirt from the hook and held it up to his face. Arthur could see his shoulders lifting at he breathed in deeply. Heart pounded hard in his chest - though the game was long over. Arthur crossed arms (tingling now with arousal) and finally spoke. "Those don't smell like me," he said softly. "They're clean."

The boy flinched so hard that Arthur was torn between laughing and apologizing. He did neither. He turned around, face even paler than it usually was. That smile was nowhere to be found.

"I- I didn't… I wasn't…," he stumbled hard over his words, audibly breathless from being caught here. Arthur's grey t-shirt was still in his hand.

"Wasn't what?" Arthur cooed, stepping slowly toward him. The ball boy backed away until his back met the locker. There was nowhere to go - except, perhaps, inside it. The boy's shoulder bumped the shelf. "Is this what you wanted?" Slowly he brought his own tanned hand down to lift his jersey up, revealing a hard-worked abdomen and a chest likewise swollen with muscle. Now shirtless, he offered the jersey to him. The boy looking between them - Arthur and his shirt - before dropping the grey one in his hand and taking the other. Their hands touched momentarily and Arthur found himself close to panting afterwards. "What's your name, ball boy?" he softly asked.

"Merlin," was the answer. Those eyes were staring at him again, over the fabric he held close to his face. It didn't matter how close he held it, truly; Arthur's scent filled the air.

"Merlin," Arthur repeated, like he was remembering it from a dream. Own eyes flicked over those cheekbones, along his brow, down to pink, full lips. Such a pretty boy. He hadn't been close enough to see it so well. "You're very handsome, Merlin. Do you know that?"

This answer was quieter than the last, and that smile (nervous, now) returned only momentarily. "No."

Pendragon reached to trace his cheek, gaze following his own touch. "You are. You play?"

"Keeper," he answered. "I'm not- not all that great."

"I saw you catching," Arthur assured. "Nice and tall. Long reach."

"Lanky, you mean." There was a half-smile this time, and Merlin stepped slightly closer, barely an inch from the locker. "Can I," he started, then swallowed, and Arthur watched the apple in his throat twitch, "keep this?"

He glanced to the jersey in the boy's hand. "All yours. You deserve it." Merlin inhaled silently and deeply from it while Arthur watched, glancing over his face, down his neck, along his body. He'd been sweating, too. "And maybe a shower, too."

Arthur was dizzy with sudden arousal and he could only imagine how this boy felt. "With you?" he asked, near a whisper.

"With me - if you'd want to."

He answered, "Yeah," apparently too quickly because Merlin then began to stumble over his words once more: "I mean, I'd- yeah, I'd love to."

A nod was given to the boy's body and he took the hint, pulling the shirt over his head shyly. "Put 'em in the locker," Arthur told him after eyeing the skin that had been made bare to him, met then with Merlin's back as he turned to put his clothes out of sight. Gaze drifted downwards until his eyes were on round flesh - those shorts inched down and revealing underwear not even below his thigh. Arthur wanted to pull those down - knead that ass, spread it open, taste this boy.

"Everything?" Merlin had asked him a moment ago, but Arthur's ears were ringing too loudly to hear him right away.

Arthur answer was physical: he stepped forward and pressed himself flush against the boy, chest against shoulder blades and hips together. He was breathing hard, unlike anything he did on the field, and did so right into Merlin's ear. "All of it." Hands trailed over a lightly muscled abdomen, resting on his bare hips, fingers daring to dip below his waistline. Arthur felt at the coarse hair inching down the boy's underwear.

He was so pretty - Arthur just wanted to see all of him.

Merlin's hands lifted slightly to obey, and he pushed that fabric down, letting it slide to his ankles. Arthur looked down over his shoulder to see him - cock rigid and reddened, aching for relief. A Pendragon hand reached to do just that: grasping his girth and stroking him lightly from behind. Immediately an exhale was given in response and Arthur pressed his grin against Merlin's shoulder.

"How's that feel?" he whispered, quietly but hotly into his ear. The only response the boy gave was a desperate sort of whimper. Arthur stroked harder, tightened the grip, worked him for only a minute. "Come for me."

Pendragon could barely believe what he'd said and he was dizzy with lust. Other hand came down to grasp Merlin's sac, rubbing and massaging to bring him closer to climax. A moment later Merlin's hips were thrusting desperately into Arthur's hand and threads of white seed shot onto the locker next to the captain's. The blond found himself grinding gently against the round ass he'd gone flush to, breathing deeply from his own satisfaction (although he was as hard as he'd ever been).

Things went quiet after that. Arthur milked him well then took his hands away. Merlin stifled moans and regained his breath. Pendragon stepped back and the boy turned, his cheeks flushed, looking at him with an expression of cautious anticipation. A stare was shared like it had been when they saw each other the first time, and then Arthur grinned. "Shower?" he softly asked.

Merlin nodded, and to the shower they went - Arthur's hand affectionately grasping the back of the boy's neck to lead him along, thumb brushing over the hair that trailed down his neck. It wasn't until they had been under hot water for a few minutes together that Merlin spoke again. "You… you played well. Like always, I mean. It was- it was great." Wet blond hair was pushed back, blue eyes staring in waiting. He said nothing else.

"So did you." Arthur's grin was continuous, and Merlin smiled whenever he saw it - though those eyes always darted away shyly. By now Arthur's cock was aching and this boy's was already hard again. Neither had touched the other since the water had been turned on, though they shared gazes and admirations without care of shame. "Look at me," was soon asked and then obeyed, a shy smile given and an adoring one returned. "Are you always so nervous?"

"No. Not always."

"Is it me?"

He nodded, said, "I've…" then stopped his sentence almost before it began. Eyes darted away, smile nervous and bright. "You're my favourite."

Arthur grinned. "You're my favourite, too." Such a good boy - in football and in the shower.

Finally a hand reached out to make contact once more, but it was not a Pendragon touch. Merlin's fingertips skimmed down Arthur's stomach, sending electricity from them like magic. A smaller grasp came around swollen shaft and stroked. As awkward and inexperienced as the rhythm was Arthur was overjoyed at it - his eyes never leaving that gorgeous face. When their gazes met - Merlin daring to look up - Arthur leaned forward and kissed him. There was much doubt as to whether or not this boy had ever been kissed before, with the way he returned the affection - but it was beautiful in its own way: innocent; simple; sweet. Water got onto their tongues as they met, lips often momentarily parting to deepen their connection or merely breathe.

Arthur led with his tongue and as it continued Merlin became more confident, mouth's muscle daring to flick against whitened teeth.

Strong arms had wrapped around Merlin and kept him close, slender pale body against a tanner and taller one. Those hands, meanwhile, had kept at Arthur's cock between them until they found some steady rhythm. It wasn't until he was breathing too hard to keep kissing him that he stilled those hands, grasping wrists gently. A stare was shared and then Arthur had let him go and dropped to his knees, quickly taking Merlin's cock down his throat. A moan echoed between the shower walls and those sweet, slender fingers threaded through wet hair.

Not even a minute passed before Merlin was orgasming again, releasing this time into Arthur's mouth without warning. Hips made little thrusts and he had to put his hands on the boy's sides to keep him from buckling under his own weight. Pendragon's grin was so wide around the twitching cock that Merlin's cum leaked out of his mouth and down his chin, soon rinsed away from the ongoing shower.

He had such a hair trigger. Was that because he was being worked, or being worked by Pendragon?

"I want you to-," Merlin panted, breathed deeply, then continued again, "-to come, too."

"Where?" was all Arthur needed to know.

Those cheeks were so flushed, pale patches surrounded by red. Arthur stood up and kissed both cheekbones, noses brushed afterwards. He liked this boy - not like he liked the girls between the cities or in the other counties they played. Rarely had he ever been so affectionate - or so unconcerned with his own pleasure. 

"Wherever you'd like."

"Turn around." Merlin did, and Arthur's hands came down to spread his ass apart. Although blue eyes were staring at it, he could see the boy's head turn to look at him - cautious. "Don't worry," he assured. He wasn't going to fuck him - not here, not now. Instead he fit his cock between Merlin's cheeks and thrust forward, grinding against him - using his ass. Pendragon didn't have to look to see the boy already getting hard again, and as he pushed his hips forward and back, a hand reached down to Merlin's waist and grasped his cock.

He knew he'd be quick again - and that was okay, because Arthur was, too. Thrusting hard against Merlin's ass he felt a familiar, deep tingling at his core. Soon his hips became erratic, almost primal as Arthur caved to his orgasm, stroking the boy so quick he had no chance of holding out. They came together, Merlin for the third time and Arthur for the first, his seed marking the small of his back and moans pressed hard into a pale shoulder - teeth even gripping onto it. He pressed hard against the boy, so much so that he was pinned against the wall. 

Well-worked muscles were trembling now. He should've been resting, working that game like he had, but working this boy was more important. Pendragon shook gently against him and he could feel Merlin's legs nearly buckling again, so strong arms were fast around his middle. Kisses were pressed to his shoulder.

The shower was resumed properly, leisure hands sharing soap and massaging muscles. They were silent (there wasn't much to say) until Arthur and Merlin had dressed back among the lockers. Pendragon grinned at the dripping cum on the metal beside his own before wiping it off with a towel and tossing it to the wall. "Here," Arthur said, slipping a key into Merlin's hand. On one side the plastic keychain read a hotel name and on the other the number '111'. It needed no explaining. And then Merlin looked at him, sadly almost, on the verge of their momentary goodbyes. He grasped the boy's neck and brought him close to kiss between his brows.

"You're a good ball boy," he whispered, his smile faint, affectionate, and satisfied. "My favourite."


End file.
